Before the Storm
by lareepqg
Summary: Jane and Dragon spend a few quiet moments together, the night before the ball. A short addition to our story game.


_A/N: This story is a part of a series being written by the Jane and the Dragon fanfiction. A complete list of stories can be found in my profile. Now with hyperlinks!_

 _A little bit of Dragon snuggles for Jatd4ever._

* * *

Notch, pull, exhale, ...release.

 _Thwack!_

Notch, pull, exhale, ...release.

 _Thwack!_

Concealed at the far end of the meadow, it took several moments for the dull resonation of the arrow hitting the tree to reach her.

She's lurking again. It's a bad habit, she knows. One that seems to becoming more frequent as of late.

Sneaking about like that cankerblossom feels less than honorable, but how else is she to get any time to herself? Bullied by her mother, ordered to task by Sir Ivon or Sir Theodore, followed around by the doe-eyed pock-marked puppy-dog offspring of the lesser nobility.

Jane sighed. It's unfair, _spiteful_ , of her to think so disparagingly of the young men who pursued her. She knows they have their own duties and obligations to fulfil. They are being pressured into forcing a connection in hopes of an advantageous match, just as she was.

She certainly could empathize.

But she didn't have to _like_ it.

If only they weren't so adept at shadowing her.

Suddenly uneasy, Jane straightened. She scanned the trees to make sure Algernon hadn't somehow followed her out into the forest. His ability to appear out of thin air was discomfiting. Algernon's insipid prattle made her head ache with daggered barbs, but it was his constant need to be touching her that made her skin crawl. It was like having chiggers scrabble up her spine to burrow and tear the tender flesh at the base of her neck.

An unwanted hand on her wrist, a presumptuous leading palm on her lower back, a brush of long fingers that was just a little _too_ familiar.

It made her nauseous.

Satisfied the codswaddle wasn't going to pop out of the undergrowth like a handsy rat in a grain barrel, Jane allowed herself to relax. She leaned heavily against the tree next to her.

Well, perhaps her creeping about _was_ a bit necessary.

Certainly her stealth allowed her to watch Gunther unfettered.

The damnable bogweevil hadn't been avoiding her, not precisely. He had just become rather adept at making himself singularly unavailable or remarkably scarce.

Jane kept herself still. If he knew she was there, he'd probably stop his practice to...to what, exactly? Hurry off to some supposedly forgotten task? Stand there mutely in uncomfortable stillness until she stalked away, in disappointment? It wasn't as if _she_ was able to initiate any sort of conversation.

 _She_ hadn't done anything wrong.

Well, neither had he. Had he?

 _Why_ was this so hard? She missed their banter. She missed his insults. She missed her friend.

She missed _him._

Notch, pull,

Jane timed her breathing to his.

...release.

 _Thwack!_

Unhurried, methodical, the motion of his arms and shoulders was soothing in its regularity. Comforting in its familiarity.

 _Thwack!_

The arrow lodges next to the others on the tree. Tightly clustered, they form a small plume of color against the brown bark.

Thwack.

Another arrow knocks into the tree, right on target. The shots are consistent, tight, and skillfully done. Gunther's prowess with the bow is once again a thing of unmatched beauty.

It's a relief.

Jane is surprised to see him doing so well ...not because his archery had been _terrible_ as of late, but because she is sure his hands must ache with each pull and loose of the arrow. She'd managed to sneak a look at them yesterday, _it was embarrassing to think just how much she'd been sneaking lately,_ to see angrily scabbed, bruised knuckles and a tightly wrapped bandage. Watching him unload supplies for the ball and made her own hands ache in sympathy.

Well, that is what you get for brawling.

 _Maggot._

But that had been it. A few stolen looks and a desperate desire to see him. Unfortunately, helping move crates hadn't provided any more opportunity to observe him than watching him through her window.

Jane would be content to stand here, hidden in the darkening verdant shade of the forest for the rest of the afternoon.

It wasn't to be.

High above the trees, she hears the faint swoop and woosh of wingbeats.

So much for a moment to herself.

If Dragon was looking for her, it was probably time for patrol. _Bother._ Why was Dragon's eyesight so frustratingly, so inconveniently, so _selectively_ uncanny?

Having spotted her, dragon dipped his wing in practiced acknowledgement. With lazy spirals, Dragon began his descent.

Gunther lowered his bow as Dragon's shadow passed over him. Where Jane wandered, Dragon followed. His keen eyes scanned the treeline until they found her in the shadows.

Sheepish at having been caught, Jane marched over where Gunther stood waiting, bow held loosely in his unbandaged hand.

Jane approached warily, stopping just before him. He was close enough to touch. It was tempting, _so very so tempting_ to do so. Instead she settled on placing both hands on her hips. Gunther looked down at her with quiet patience.

Patience? No.

Resignation.

Just what _had_ she wanted to say? She couldn't remember.

Jane tilted her head back to better gauge his expression when her eyes fell on the purpled bruise marring his jaw. She wondered if the vivid blotch was from Algernon or Smithy.

Jester had been...aggravatingly pithy in his description of what had happened in the practice yard. A vague account about Gunther in a skirmish with Algernon and later tussle with Smithy. Since when did Jester forgo an opportunity to spin a tale? He'd been almost apologetic, but had failed to enumerate further. It was _most_ vexing.

When asked, Smithy had just shrugged and told her to ask Gunther.

She wasn't sure she had the courage to.

With one hand, Jane reached up and turned his head to the side, so she could better examine the bruise. _So much for resisting temptation_. As big as the palm of her hand, it faded from a deep blackish-blue to a plum-like purple. Jane probed his jaw gently, but didn't find any evidence of swelling.

Here in the light, she could see where another bruise bloomed low on his neck. This one a greenish yellow, mostly hidden by Gunther's bronzed skin. Jane ran her fingers along its edges, a frown creasing her brow. This was ridiculous! What had he been _thinking?_

She had opened her mouth to comment when she noticed yet _another_ mark on his collar bone where his shirt fell open. _What was this?_ Jane felt her anger rise. She'd received similar bruises, when she'd been careless in practice and gotten poked by one of the dulled swords.

Had Algernon done this? Jabbed Gunther with a dulled sword so abominably _hard_ it had broken the flesh? Gunther was _tall,_ far taller than Jane herself. He'd have had to been on the ground to recieve such an injury.

This had been deliberate.

That _bastard._

The discoloration looked angry and painful.

Wanting to sooth the injured skin Jane moved to touch it, s _o what if her hands had a slight tremble?_ when Gunther caught her hand and gently pushed it away. Had she accidentally hurt him?

Jane met his eyes, ready to apologize, when Dragon landed beside them.

"Ahoy, ahoy, short-lives!" Gunther stepped back, out of reach. "Jane, I have been informed it is time for patrol."

The moment to say something, say _anything,_ had passed. With regretful steps, Jane turned to leave.

After settling herself astride Dragon's neck, Jane cast a surreptitious look towards Gunther. _Sneaking again._ She needn't have troubled herself. Gunther had already resumed his practice.

Notch, pull, exhale, ...release.

 _Thwack!_

As Dragon flung himself into the air Jane felt her chest wrench painfully. With tears in her eyes, Jane couldn't help but feel that perhaps her heart, still aching with twisted beat, lay somewhere below them.

* * *

Much later, Jane stood at the cliff's edge of Dragon's cave, launching rocks into the gaping expanse below them.

"You throw like a girl, you know." Dragon blinked sleepily beside her.

"You mean, with frightening speed and deadly accuracy?" Jane smiled, it was an old joke. Dragon's toothy grin matched her own. Dragons, apparently, couldn't throw at all. It was bloody dangerous to be on the receiving end of _anything_ a dragon might lob in your direction.

It was good to spend time with him, beyond their normal patrols. It had been far too long.

Below them the castle glittered. Thanks to Dragon's fearsome reputation, one he had been cultivating all week with deafening roars and considerable shows of blazing flame, Jane was safe from her bevy of suitors.

 _For the moment_.

That nagging desire to fly away, _far, far, far away_ into the distant horizon was almost overwhelming.

"He looked hurt," Jane said without preamble.

"Gunther's face? Yes, it did look like it hurt." Dragon made an irreverent noise of appreciation. "They must have had quite the brawl. Down and dirty, I hear. You short-lives sure do love a good bit of carnage."

"No, lizard breath. That is not what I mean." Jane's nible fingers worried the stones in her hand. " _He_ looked hurt. I could see it in face. In his eyes."

"Champion!" Jane gave Dragon a sharp look. Dragon opened his claws in supplication. "What? Well that _is_ a nice change of pace. Usually Gunther just looks like he has just bitten down on one of his own farts."

Jane frowned in disgust.

"Lovely, Dragon." Her sarcasm was thick. The bothersome great green lizard. What was she supposed to make of that? She thought about the dark marks which stained Gunther's face and neck. Jane felt her anger rising again.

Hastily, she forced it back down. Now was not the time.

Bruises were not uncommon, they _were_ squires, after all. Discomfort was an unfortunate a part of their daily lives. No, it was the pain which lurked underneath that wounded her.

He _hurt._

Far more than she knew how to heal.

She brooded in silence, her distressed thoughts at war with the tranquil evening.

"Are you ready for the ball tomorrow?" Dragon interrupted her thoughts. Jane was glad for the distraction.

"I think you meant to say, ready for it to be over?" Jane replied. Dragon chuckled. He placed a hand over his heart in mock surprise.

"You mean you aren't looking forward to stuffy conversation, drooling nitwitted nobles, and trod-apon toes? How _very_ shocking."

"I had forgotten about the toes." Jane threw another rock. "No. Yes. No." Jane couldn't decide which was most true. "Yes, I suppose I am as ready as I can be. Mother finally finished the new dress. The queen's dress had been rather worse for wear thanks to Lavinia." Dragon hummed in question. "Apparently, she made one of the male staff dress up for a tea party or some such nonsense. Most of the seams had been split." Dragon laughed heartily. "The queen was most displeased."

"I'd wager she was, indeed!"

"Mother is still in mourning over its loss. The new gown is rather simple with dark blue with burgundy on the neckline and in the sleeves." Jane shrugged. It was hard to feel anything but resentment for a dress that felt like a burial shroud.

"You do know I'm colorblind, yes?" Dragon nudged her with his snout.

"You are not!" Jane giggled, shoving his great head away. "Silly beast. It is nice enough... easier to move in, certainly." Jane launched another rock into the night. "Mother spent today picking through all the courting gifts to 'lend a sense of refinement to the whole thing'."

"You are going to sparkle like my teeth!" Dragon tapped his front tooth with a pointed claw.

"Yes. I guess I will. Though I would rather not wear any of it. What if one of those silly swains thinks it means I've accepted his suit?"

"You already wear those." Dragon gestured to her new armor and the beautifully made dagger at her hip. Thankfully he couldn't see where the little jade pendant lay beneath her shirt, next to her heart. There was some astute observational commentary she could do without, _thank you very much_.

"Touche." Jane flung another rock out towards the rising moon. If she stared long enough she could almost imagine the bits of broken shale were hitting it, absorbed by its pale luminance.

"I don't think I have anything to fear from that particular suitor. He hasn't exactly announced himself."

"Not yet."

"No, not yet." Out of rocks to throw, Jane walked over to where Dragon lay and draped herself across his warm shoulder. Dragon rumbled in reassuring comfort. "But to answer your question, Dragon, no, I am most certainly not ready for this ball."

"At least it will be over."

"Yes, Dragon, but what then? More courting? More suitors? Everything could change. What if I have to marry Algernon?"

"Then I will eat him." Dragon said, as though this were a perfectly _sensible_ solution. Jane wanted to smile but found she could not.

"You cannot eat my husband, Dragon."

"Absolutely, I can. A quick chomp, a chew or three, gulp him right down, and there you are, a merry widow! Though I doubt that smarmy Algernon tastes of anything but grease."

"You'd start a war."

"Only a little one."

"No, Dragon." Jane wanted to cry.

"We could leave you know," his voice was soft. "Soar off into the great unknown. Just you and me, off on an adventure. Great fun and all that. Settle in another kingdom, find other dragons, leave our troubles behind forever."

"No, Dragon." Now she _was_ crying. _Ugh._ Knights do not _cry._ "I cannot. It would be dishonorable." Her breath hitched. "I...I have a duty, and...I…" Jane's body shuddered with the force her despair.

Dragon curled around her, his whole body thrumming in response to her distress.

"I love you, Jane."

"I love you too, Dragon."


End file.
